


A Doctor Walks into a Bookshop...

by tenandi



Category: Doctor Who, Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Tenth Doctor - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 13:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19813126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenandi/pseuds/tenandi
Summary: There's a finite number of 10thDoctor!/Good Omens crossovers. Here's one more, a one-shot. (Get thee behind me, plot bunny!)Ten walks into Aziraphale's shop wanting to buy a book. Crowley is protective. A standoff ensues, but love always wins in the end.





	A Doctor Walks into a Bookshop...

Aziraphale was in the middle of one of his fondest activities: cataloguing new acquisitions into his collection. He wore a pair of delicate white gloves as he sifted through a large pile of hand-inscribed parchments, mostly from the tenth and eleventh centuries. He hummed quietly to himself as he worked, and hardly noticed the tinkling bell that signaled someone entering the shop.

Of course, he was used to ignoring the chime. He was much more successful at driving away potential customers when he refused to acknowledge them. Writing in a careful script, he tucked an index card into the book he was working on and entered its description onto a large roll of parchment with a quill pen.

He heard the customer walking around and stared harder at his table. Certainly they would leave presently when they realized the shop keeper had no interest in their business. Instead, and much to his chagrin, the visitor walked right up to the desk and rang the bell.

Aziraphale looked up with an exasperated expression that quickly turned to confusion.

“Crowley?” he asked incredulously, nearly dropping the book he was handling.

“Crowley?” the man replied. “That’s new.” He flashed a dazzling grin at the angel and rapped his knuckles on the desk. Wearing a blue pinstripe suit, the lanky stranger bared a striking resemblance to the angel’s demonic counterpart, outside of his humanoid brown eyes that twinkled in the afternoon light.

“Nope,” the man said, popping the 'p' in his pronunciation. “I’m the Doctor. And I’m looking for something rather unusual. Perhaps you could be of assistance?”

The man who called himself the Doctor held out a pad of paper for Aziraphale to examine. The angel’s confusion only increased.

“Whatever you need this to say to make you comply,” he read aloud. “Is this some kind of joke, young man?” The Doctor frowned as he turned the paper back toward himself, looking sulky.

The Doctor scoffed. “Young man? Also new... Don’t look a day over 700 to boot.”

Aziraphale smirked but maintained his cover. “I can only imagine,” he replied. “And what exactly can I, a simple human, do for such an illustrious personage?”

The Doctor beamed, obviously easy enough to flatter. “Well, I’m looking for a book, of course. Rather rare. Don’t mind me, I’ll just…” He flicked a glowing pen around the room, which emitted an intense whine. “Ah!” the Doctor exclaimed. He ran off toward the back of the bookstore.

Aziraphale was becoming increasingly annoyed. No doubt this youngster was not only having a go at him, but he meant to take one of his precious books! The angel stood and pulled down his golden vest for good measure. That would be the day...

At that very moment, the door chime sang out and Aziraphale nearly rolled his eyes. He was satisfied, however, to see his dear friend Crowley ambling through the entrance.

“Crowley!” he whispered loudly. “Just in time! I need your assistance!”

Crowley sauntered over looking as bored and graceful as a cat. “The usual? Need me to run someone off?” he asked behind dark glasses.

Aziraphale huffed and cast his best impression of puppy eyes at his friend. “A most unwelcome guest,” he hissed, pointing toward the back. “He’s over there! Calls himself ‘the Doctor’ of all things.”

Crowley snorted and gave a sarcastic half-bow. “At your will, sire,” he mouthed.

Aziraphale suddenly realized he might need to give a heads-up about the stranger’s uncanny resemblance to the demon, but failed to capture Crowley’s attention as he disappeared into the stacks. The angel wrung his hands fretfully.

Crowley hadn’t made it halfway when an energetic man bounded out in front of him. “Got it!” he said gleefully. And then, “Oh! Huh. What?”

The two regarded one another carefully, and quickly moved into an unchoreographed dance around each other. Crowley frowned while the Doctor beamed. “Look at you!” the latter cooed. “Like staring in the mirror. What a handsome devil!”

Crowley sneered. “You have no idea,” he replied. He noticed that his doppleganger was clutching one of Aziraphale’s books. He glanced back toward the angel who mimed some kind of pugalistic move. Crowley rolled his eyes grandly.

The Doctor had fished out his buzzing wand from his pocket and was waving it over the demon with barely contained excitement. He stopped to check the reading and sucked in his lower lip disconcertedly. “Ohhh…” he breathed. “Extraordinary!”

Before Crowley could react, the wild-haired man was skipping through the room with his bizarre device. He scanned up and down the shelves, over the furniture, and then in a move which was not to be borne, over the angel himself.

“That’ll do,” Crowley said coldly, coming to stand between him and Aziraphale. “If you don’t mind I believe the shop is closing presently.”

“Shop?” the Doctor echoed daftly. “Oh yes! This is a bookstore, innit? Ha ha!” The Doctor’s laugh punctuated through the air like a knife. “Or some kind of store. A store run by supernatural beings.” He stopped to sniff the air. “One sort of brimstoney,” he continued, “The other rather biscuity - jammy dodgers, I think.”

Aziraphale blushed and crossed his arms. “Now see here...” he began.

“What a pair,” the Doctor said with barely repressed glee. “Ooh! The two of you! Are you an item?”

Aziraphale and Crowley looked back in abject horror at the flittery man who was waving his blinking pen at them. He squinted at his instrument and chuckled. “Love a proper romance, me,” he chuffed.

“Alright,” Crowley grumbled. “I’ve had enough. What do you think, angel? Ship him off to Alpha Centauri? Banish him to the fourteenth century?” He was already cracking his knuckles.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale admonished, but the Doctor’s chaotic energy only increased.

“Alpha Centauri!” he beamed. “Lovely this time of year! But I’m afraid I don’t have time at the moment. You see, I’m here to save your planet. Well, all the planets, really.”

For the first time, the Doctor’s countenance turned grave. He held up the book he’d been clutching like it was a piece of irrefutable evidence. Aziraphale eyed it and scoffed.

“Nicodemus!” he said haughtily. “Good Lord.”

“Yeah, a snoozer, right?” the Doctor concurred. “But it’ll do in a pinch. I’m meeting with the elders of the Ood and need to...well, I’m sure it wouldn’t interest you. In short, saving time itself, bla bla bla, you get the idea. I should really get on.”

Crowley stiffened. “You’re not leaving with that,” he indicated toward the book.

The Doctor’s face darkened and the mood in the room shifted quickly. Not one to be intimidated, Crowley snapped his fingers and the volume vanished. Instead of the usual shock accompanying such a gesture, the Doctor only glowered.

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation,” he said stiffly.

Crowley sneered. “I don’t think you understand how things work around here, Doctor” he replied mockingly.

The two squared off, much to Aziraphale’s distress.

“Gentlemen! Please!” he pleaded. “No need to go primeval! Crowley, please don’t hurt him!”

Ignoring him, the two men glared at one another as if entering a duel. “You really, really don’t want to get in my way,” the Doctor warned.

Crowley scowled, unconvinced.

“I’m over 900 years old,” the Doctor grimaced. “I’m from the planet Gallifrey. I can travel through time and space. I’m not to be trifled with, and I’m not in the mood for dalliance.”

Crowley winked, snapping his fingers, and the Doctor disappeared.

“Crowley!” the angel admonished.

“What?” was the reply. The demon was all astonishment. “You said-”

“I said!” Aziraphale argued back, losing his patience. “Just tell me where you’ve put him!”

Crowley shrugged. “4126,” he replied lazily. “Seemed appropriate.”

Aziraphale huffed and pulled off his white gloves, grumbling to himself. “You can’t just go about miracling people on a whim,” he’d started, but was cut off by a mechanical, grinding sound. In short time, the bookshop door opened once more.

To their amazement, the Doctor came waltzing back in, a grim look on his face.

“Right,” he declared. “Like I mentioned, I’m very busy and the last thing I have time for is...well, whatever that was. Now are you going to help me or not?”

Crowley gaped, but the angel seemed to take it all in stride. “Very well,” he grimaced. “If the book is as important as all that…”

Crowley’s hand pointed toward the Doctor and then back to the angel incredulously. “But he...he just...what???”

The Doctor was back in the stacks retracing his steps before Crowley could finish the thought. Once again, he brought out the book and placed it on the counter. The Doctor glowered as Aziraphale handled the book lovingly. “I suppose I must part with it,” he said softly. “You said you’re saving the planet, or well, the world, as it is?”

The Doctor nodded solemnly. “Quite right.”

Crowley’s gobsmacked expression had finally dwindled down to nonchalant. “I am rather fond of the earth,” he said. “Angel?” he asked, seeking guidance.

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “It’s all rather extraordinary,” he admitted, “But what isn’t these days? Hellhounds, Satanic nuns, books of prophecy lying in the backseat? I suppose it’s just another day when you think about it.”

The Doctor regarded him gratefully. “Thank you,” he said as he was finally offered the book from the reluctant shopkeep. “I’ll guard it well.”

Aziraphale smiled for the first time, sending an unprecedented glow through the Doctor that made his hands tremble. “I trust you will,” he averred.

The Doctor nodded once before looking askance at Crowley. His face belied some kind of vulnerability that Crowley knew instinctively, did not make a frequent appearance. “There’s few things in this world that warrant protection," the Doctor breathed, "-the kind that you and I can give. I can see you’ve decided where your priorities lie… We’re both men who know what we believe in, at the end of all things. Can I give you some advice?”

Crowley blinked as the Doctor approached, his gravitas like a black hole.

“Don’t assume he knows how you feel,” he said quietly. “I thought...I believed she knew. I knew she knew...but even so. It would have meant more to say it. Just once.”

Crowley looked into the Doctor’s eyes and felt the impending weight of timeless existence. Six thousand years advancing his time as an angel, and yet... This is what it looked like to lose everything beyond the fall. He shuddered at the grim, hopeless gaze that met his own, and then rallied. Not everything was lost.

The Doctor turned to leave with book in hand, a thoughtful expression playing over his features. He smiled at the pair of them with fondness, and perhaps, nostalgia. “It won’t always be easy,” he said, “But I think the two of you are going to have a really great year.”

Aziraphale and Crowley couldn’t make a response because he was already walking out the door. Instead, they gazed at one another. The angel and the demon glanced away bashfully. But then they didn’t.


End file.
